A Home for Lydia (The Pebble Creek Amish Series) (49 page)

“How’s
mammi
?” she asked her grandfather.

“Go see for yourself. She’s in the garden.”

“I thought that’s why we were here.” She held his hand as she skipped beside him.

“Abigail can always use more help. Your
mammi
is a little frustrated that she’s moving slower than she did last year, but the medicine has been working
gut
.”

They walked around the corner of the house, and Grace spotted her grandmother. She wasn’t kneeling in the dirt or working on the rows of vegetables. Instead, she was sitting on a bench in a corner of the garden, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders and a glass of water in her hand.

She also wasn’t alone.

Miriam was sitting beside her, cradling Rachel and nursing her.
Aenti
Ida and
aenti
Anna were standing at the front of the rows, directing the children—Grace’s cousins.

“Oh, my. It’s a gardening party!” Grace let go of her
grossdaddi’
s hand and started to run toward the garden, but then she turned back. He stopped suddenly and she bumped into him. Throwing her hands around his middle, she hugged him tight. “I love you,
daddi
.”

“You don’t say?”

“I do say!” She took off running, still holding the basket of seedlings.

When she showed Ida the plants, Ida sent her two rows over and half way down. All seven of her children were helping, even the little ones. Some of them were playing in the dirt more than helping. They had little tin pie plates, and they kept filling them up before emptying them out again.

Grace wanted to stop and draw that scene, but she kept on planting. Sometimes work came first and drawing came second.

All of six of
aenti
Anna’s children were there too, from the youngest, who was even younger than Rachel, to the oldest—Seth.

“I thought you worked at the cabins,” Grace said as he helped her to water the tomato plants she’d carefully planted into her row. She and Miriam had raised them from seed at home, with plastic milk jugs around them to keep the rabbits away. The milk jugs had come from her mother’s friend Rae, who always seemed to know what to bring on her visits.

“
Ya
, I do.” He moved the bucket of water for her.

She dipped her cup in, dribbled the water out carefully over the next plant.

“Don’t they need you today?”

“I made sure it would be okay to take the morning off. I can always stay later tonight if I need to in order to finish my work.”

“And Lydia doesn’t mind?”

“
Nein
.”

“Is Aaron back?”

“Not yet. I haven’t heard when he is coming back.” Seth pointed to the plant she was watering. “Don’t put too much on that one. It’ll fall over. Needs a few days to set.”

“Oh, yeah. I forget sometimes.
Danki
.”

“Sure thing. Holler if you need more water.” He walked away, off to cart water for someone else.

Grace felt something land on her shoulder and turned to see Ida’s middle son with a small pail holding half a dozen grasshoppers. He giggled and tossed another at her. Instead of jumping, which she did want to do, she looked at him the way she imagined her mother would and said, “Wouldn’t those be
gut
for fishing?”

“Fishing. I wonder if
daddi
will take us.” He darted off, running toward the barn.

Grace finished watering her plants and walked up the aisle toward the grown-ups, who were all sitting now, laughing over something the babies had done.

Mammi
was still too skinny, but she did look as though she was feeling better. Grace understood now that she was old. But old wasn’t bad. It only meant that someone had been around long enough to grow wise, long enough to grow special.

Rachel was special too.

They all were in some way.

But
mammi
? They had learned this year that she was a precious gift, one not to be taken for granted. Sort of like the bishop of a church.
Mammi
and
daddi
were the head of their family. They knew when to hug, when to bake cookies, and when to go fishing.

Grace set her watering can at the end of the row, near the other supplies. She had meant to draw when she finished with her part of the gardening, but maybe instead she would go and see what everyone was laughing about. Maybe she’d go spend some time just being with
mammi
.

Chapter 43

Downtown Cashton

Thursday afternoon, two weeks later

A
aron stepped off the bus and smiled broadly when he saw there were no large puddles of rainwater to avoid. If anything, the street was somewhat dusty from the combination of cars and buggies traveling down Main Street. Apparently, it hadn’t rained since he’d been gone.

No one else was exiting the bus at Cashton, so he didn’t have to wait long for the driver to remove his single bag from the storage compartment.

“This it?”

“
Ya
.
Danki
.”

He had shouldered the duffel when a buggy coming in the opposite direction careened past them. Raising a hand, he waved at Raymond Eicher, who tipped his hat but did not slow down. The boy had not learned to drive any more safely.

The bus driver keyed something into his handheld device before climbing back on board the bus. “Good luck to you, son.”

Aaron watched as the bus chugged to life, pulled back on to the road, and headed farther west. There wasn’t even one small part of
Aaron that wished he was riding with the group of travelers. There was nothing for him out west.

He glanced back the way they had come. Didn’t want to go that way, either. His past was that direction, in Indiana.

His future…he hoped his future waited for him here.

As the afternoon sun warmed his face, he began to walk. Funny how the little town seemed so familiar to him—as if he’d lived there years instead of months. He passed the town hall, tavern, café, general store, feed store, and, of course, Amish Anthem.

Not much to Cashton.

But had it lived up to whatever expectations he’d brought when he’d first stepped off the bus in May? He’d anticipated hard work, and he’d certainly found that. He hadn’t thought to find the disaster that was his
onkel
’s cabins. A car signaled to turn in front of him, and he paused to wait on it.

The work at the cabins had shown him that
Gotte
could use his talents in other ways. He glanced down at his hands, still calloused, but from using a saw and hedge clippers instead of a plow.

He preferred the plow.

Whistling he crossed the road.

There had been the burglaries and Jerry’s arrest. No, he could not have guessed all that had waited for him when he’d first stepped off the bus and onto the streets of Cashton. If he had guessed, he might have told the bus driver to hold up and let him back on.

Which meant he would never have met Lydia.

The tune he’d been whistling stuck in his throat. He stopped, removed his hat, and wiped the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. When he started walking again, he was once more whistling, this time the hymn they had sung at his old church in Indiana on Sunday—“Amazing Grace.”

Wildcat Mountain rose to the east. What would the trails and ridges look like in the fall? He hoped he would still be there to find out. He hoped he would see snow cover the roads he was crossing now.

Pushing his hat down more firmly on his head, he cinched up the duffel bag and walked resolutely, increasing his pace, when he heard the sound of a buggy slowing behind him.

“Need a ride?” The voice was familiar, as was Gabe’s smile.

“I could use one.” Aaron tossed his duffel into the backseat, grinning at the man who had become like a brother to him.

Gabe signaled to Chance, and they went at a fast trot out of town.

“
Gut
trip?”

“
Ya
.”

“Took you longer than you thought it might.”

“It did.”

Aaron had almost forgotten how tall his friend was. Even sitting, it was apparent. Gabe’s somber brown eyes glanced at the younger man once or twice, but he didn’t ask the questions that caused him to tug on his beard.

“How’s Miriam?”

“
Gut
.”

“And the girls?”

“Fine. Rachel seems to have grown another size, and Grace has put up some of her drawings for sale at the cabins.”

Aaron nodded. They had talked of this before he left, but Grace wasn’t sure she wanted to part with any of the sketches. She’d planned to discuss the idea with Miriam’s parents and Bishop Atlee, whom the young girl had taken a liking to.

“I’m glad to hear that. She has real talent, something
Gotte
will use to touch people.”

Gabe nodded, opting to study the road in front of him instead of answering.

When he pulled up on Chance’s reins to turn the horse onto the road where the Plain Cabins sat along Pebble Creek, Aaron’s hand shot out and stopped him.

“I won’t be going to the cabins this afternoon.”

Gabe slowed the horse and waited.

Aaron pulled off his hat, and ran his sleeve over the sweat that again pooled across his brow. He peered down the road to his right.

Lydia was there. Was she waiting for him? What would she say when she saw him?

He wanted to know that more than he wanted any other thing. But there were times when you had to put off what the heart wanted. He’d learned that too over the last few weeks. There was still one thing for him to take care of first.

His father’s words came back to him, as clear as the water running through Pebble Creek. They had spoken of it as he’d waited for the bus, moments before he’d left. “Remember, son, one thing you can give and still keep is your word.”

And he had given his word, to his father and his mother, and even in some ways to Lydia. He’d given his word that he would do this correctly.

Gabe waited, not rushing him, while Chance began feeding on the grass by the side of the road.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Aaron said, “I’d like you to take me to the Fisher home. I need to speak with Menno, and it would probably be best if I did so before I saw Lydia.”

Pausing only to slap Aaron on the back, Gabe murmured to the gelding. Chance jerked his head up, and they were moving away from the cabins at a steady trot.